Solace
by Kirenza
Summary: "You're my best friend, Yuri. Sure, you've given me more headaches than I can count—don't give me that look, you know it's true—but I can't stand the thought of something happening to you. Of losing you." Yuri & Flynn friendship, oneshot.


**A/N: **Wow, this is my longest fic to date! I just couldn't stop writing, haha. This one deals with Yuri and Flynn's friendship, only Yuri's a bit drunk. I was silly and went with a subject/plot that I have almost no experience (_again_), so if his speech or reactions seem out of whack for someone who's drunk, feel free to let me know.

I also developed two very minor characters (Inara & Simon) for the purposes of this fic. (So basically, their pasts are just my own headcanons.)

Anyway, on with the show! I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Flynn had just begun to remove his armor for the evening when he received a report of a disturbance of the peace. Evidently a drunken scuffle had broken out in a Lower Quarter tavern. With a sigh, he donned the armor again and headed out into the night, accompanied by a pair of Knights. It wasn't all that uncommon for the palace to receive this sort of report, but Flynn was exhausted by the day's affairs; he just wanted to be done with everything for today.

But as always, his sense of duty outweighed his sense of self and well-being.

"Do we have descriptions of the culprits?" Flynn asked as they made their way out of the palace.

"Yessir. An older burly man, and a younger man with dark hair. I believe the younger one is Mister Lowell, sir."

Flynn resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Of course it was Yuri. He wouldn't be surprised if his friend had been the one to initiate the fight. The men continued in silence, the light clink of armor the only sound to be heard. When they reached the Lower Quarter, a handful of citizens had gathered outside the tavern in question, quietly chattering amongst themselves. Upon noticing Flynn and his Knights, the talking ceased, and they stepped aside to allow access to the door. Even outside, Flynn could hear raised voices.

He nearly shoved the door open, but held himself back. The volume of the ruckus raised considerably as the door opened, and as Flynn crossed the threshold into the tavern, he found Yuri in the middle of a scuffle with a taller, stocky man. Yuri took a rather nasty punch to the face just then, and he stumbled backwards, tripping over a chair. When he rose a moment later, blood trickled from his nose.

"That is quite enough," Flynn called out, voice firm and authoritative. Everyone in the tavern froze, and silence rang in his ears. He approached the two. Scowling, Yuri pinched his nose to try and staunch the bleeding.

"May I ask just what is going on?" Flynn continued.

"Wha's it look like to you?" Yuri retorted, his voice slurred. Definitely drunk.

"I'm disappointed in you, Lowell. You are both ordered to cease hostilities at once, or you will receive punishment. Do I make myself clear?"

Yuri grumbled and sat in a chair, leaning forward as he tried to stop the blood from flowing. The burly man approached the group of Knights, bowing his head. Flynn noticed the skin around his eye had begun to darken.

"Sorry," he said. "Got a little carried away there."

"We'll have to take your name down for this incident," Flynn replied. "I'll let you off with a warning this time. But if there is a repeat offense, we'll have to take further action. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Flynn nodded to his Knights, breaking off to deal with Yuri. He stopped to request napkins from the bartender, who handed them over—perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. Pulling up a chair beside Yuri, Flynn found that some blood had dripped onto the floor beneath him. He held the napkins out to his friend, who took them begrudgingly, fingertips stained red.

He motioned for the Knights to head on back without him. No way was he leaving Yuri to himself to try and get home. Thankfully, it wasn't too long until the bleeding had ceased. After assisting with cleaning up the tavern, Flynn helped Yuri to his feet. The dark-haired man wobbled, and Flynn caught his arm, pulling it over his shoulder.

This was going to be a long night.

Yuri half-walked, half-stumbled with him out of the tavern, grumbling incoherently all the while. The citizens Flynn had seen on his way in were still gathered around the door, but hurried out of Flynn's path as he walked by and apologized.

"This isn't like you, Yuri," he said once they were out of earshot of the group. His friend muttered something under his breath. "Speak up. You're mumbling."

"She's dead," Yuri said, with more conviction this time and perhaps even anger. Flynn's footsteps faltered, heart thudding against his ribcage.

"Who is?" Names and faces flashed before his mind's eye. Not Estelle; he'd just seen her in the castle. Judith? No, Flynn doubted she would meet her end so early.

"It's not fair. She had so much going for her." Flynn halted and almost sent Yuri stumbling to the ground. He righted himself and shot Flynn a glare, daggers in his eyes. "The hell're you doing?"

A strong scent of whiskey wafted past Flynn's nose when Yuri spoke, nearly making him gag. Just how many drinks had he _had,_ anyway? "What are you going on about? Who died?"

"Inara," he said. "Old Lower Quarter friend. You prob'ly don't remember her."

Flynn was suddenly thrown back ten years, recalling a petite young girl with hair dark as night. A girl who had oftentimes hung around Yuri and Flynn when they'd had their little sparring sessions, encouraging from the sidelines. This news of her passing made his heart drop to his stomach, and he struggled to keep his hands from trembling.

"I do remember her," he said. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is that why you were out drinking tonight?"

Yuri said nothing, gaze fixed on the ground. Flynn let out an exasperated sigh, fixed his grip on Yuri's arm, and continued down the road. No point trying to hold a conversation with him in this state. The way back was slow-going in the dimly-lit streets, and numerous times, they had to stop to let Yuri empty the contents of his stomach. By the time they reached Yuri's room both of them reeked of vomit and booze.

Carefully Flynn set Yuri on the floor and leaned him against the wall. Repede trotted over, sniffing at Yuri and growling. Flynn ignited the lantern set and got to work preparing a few damp hand cloths. He hauled a garbage bin over to Yuri and knelt down before him, cleaning off his face despite his halfhearted attempts to bat Flynn's hand away. The blood under his nose had crusted over, and he flinched when it was rubbed off.

"Go away," he grumbled.

"Not an option," replied Flynn. "You are _drunk_, Yuri. There's no telling what might happen if I leave you here by yourself."

"Quit yammering. It's givin' me a headache."

A pause. "Sorry." Flynn had grown so used to speaking formally that it just came naturally now. He forgot that he was allowed to drop that noble guise around Yuri.

Yuri shoved Flynn aside then, ducking his head into the garbage. Flynn pulled his friend's hair back just in time and let out a sigh. So much for a good night's sleep. He'd probably have to stay over. It wasn't often that Yuri got drunk, but when he did, he was usually up until two in the morning hurling into the trash. Beneath them Repede sat his nose on Yuri's lap, and the swordsman lazily patted his muzzle.

"Why d'you care?" Yuri drawled, pulling his head from the garbage. Flynn released his hair, sending it cascading down Yuri's shoulders. "I'm always causing trouble."

"Because you're my best friend. Sure, you've given me more headaches than I can count—don't give me that look, you know it's true—but I can't stand the thought of something happening to you. Of losing you."

He knew Yuri probably wouldn't be able to wrap his mind around Flynn's words, being so drunk, but it was the truth. Perhaps it was a bit selfish; Flynn didn't want to lose his closest friend, for then what would happen to himself? Who else could he confess his secrets to, laugh with, cry with? He had Estellise, sure, but she wasn't the same. He and Yuri had seen each other through their darkest moments and come out alright in the end.

If he lost Yuri, he lost everything.

Silence reigned for a moment. "Sorry for worrying you," Yuri finally said.

"At least you're still in one piece," Flynn replied. "What were you thinking, trying to fight that man? Were you trying to prove your strength?"

Yuri scoffed. "Give me some credit, Flynn. I'm not stupid. He insulted her memory, that's all."

It was a surprising moment of lucidity. Flynn himself had never been drunk—well, maybe he'd been tipsy _once—_, but he knew it led to unpredictable behaviors. He'd seen plenty of his men drunk before.

"He's that bully who always picked on us," Yuri continued. "Simon."

Flynn vaguely recalled a tall boy from their childhood, how he and Yuri had taken a couple hits from him. And landed some punches of their own on him, as well. Yuri was right; he always was looking a fight with them, even going so far as to try and hit Inara, as well.

"Sounds like he hasn't changed much," Flynn said.

Yuri shook his head. "Thought he was being a smartass, so I gave him what he deserved."

"But that didn't work out so well, did it?" Flynn smirked slightly, pointing to Yuri's nose.

"Shut up. It was worth it."

"How is it doing, by the way?"

Yuri rubbed at his nose. "Hurts like hell."

Flynn leaned in slightly to inspect it better. He couldn't be certain in the dim light, but it didn't appear to be disfigured much, if at all. "It doesn't look broken. I'll have Lady Estellise look at it tomorrow."

With a groan, Yuri leaned his head against the wall. "For cryin' out loud, just call her Estelle. You've known her long enough." He tried to swallow, grimacing all the while. "Get me some water."

"What's the magic word?"

Yuri held up his middle finger, and Flynn couldn't help laughing. He ventured to the sink and filled a glass, returning and setting it in his friend's outstretched hand. After Yuri nearly spilled it all over himself, Flynn steadied the glass, and he quickly downed the water. He set the glass down with a loud clink and leaned back again, rubbing at his forehead with his free hand.

"You really should stop being so reckless," Flynn said. "One of these days, you might end up doing something you can't take back."

"I'm not in the mood for this," Yuri groaned. "Just let me sleep in—" He scrambled for the garbage can then and leaned his head inside, his hair tumbling inside with it. But after a moment, Yuri pulled back, slumping against the wall. "False alarm. Sorry."

Flynn rose to his feet and went to the sink, rummaging around for something to tie Yuri's hair back with. He had to at least have some string. Eventually he found a slim ribbon and returned to Yuri's side. He gently tilted the swordsman forward and pulled the long strands of hair back.

"We don't need you getting your hair all dirty, too," Flynn explained.

"Why don't you just braid it, while you're at it?" Yuri joked, leaning back against the wall. Flynn sat beside him.

"You'll have to ask Estellise for help with that. I haven't the vaguest idea of how to braid hair."

Yuri rolled his eyes, groaning. "I'm _kidding._ Jeez, Flynn, you take things way too seriously. And if you're gonna sit by me, take that damn armor off. It's jabbing my arm."

"Always so polite, aren't we?"

Flynn received a grumble in response, and set to work removing at least the pauldrons and gauntlets. When at last they were off and sitting beside him on the floor, Flynn leaned against the wall. It wasn't long before Yuri's weight leaned into his side, head resting on his shoulder.

"Am I going to jail for this?" Yuri murmured. "For the fight?"

"It's your first offense for something like this, so you'll get off with just a warning. Should it happen again, though, you'll be tossed in the dungeons for the night. And fined, too," Flynn replied.

"Swell."

Flynn got the feeling feeling that Yuri hadn't really comprehended his response, and soon, his friend was breathing slow and steady. They sat there like that for a while, in quiet peacefulness. Flynn nearly nodded off himself a few times, his head snapping up at every instance and bumping into the wall behind him. He wasn't aware of how long they'd been sitting there, but it had felt like long enough; he had yet to return to the palace, back to the warmth of his own bed.

"Hey, I need to head back," Flynn whispered, nudging Yuri's sleeping form slightly.

He only murmured in his sleep. Cautiously Flynn slid out from beside him and picked Yuri up—he'd always been rather strong despite his appearance—and he couldn't help noticing that Yuri felt lighter than he had anticipated. He hoped Yuri hadn't begun neglecting his well-being due to grief from Inara's passing. He didn't want Yuri disappearing on him too, going somewhere Flynn could not follow. He was surprised Yuri didn't protest one bit as he laid him in bed, setting him on his side. Flynn dragged the garbage can to the bedside.

Repede's nose nudged at Flynn's leg just then. "Hey there," Flynn said, kneeling to the dog's level. "Watch over him for me, alright? Make sure he stays on his side."

He wasn't sure if Repede could understand his request, but he always seemed to understand when Yuri spoke to him, so it was worth a shot. The dog let out a quiet _ruff_ in response and hopped onto Yuri's bed, curling up against his master's back.

Flynn smiled. "Good boy. You two sleep well."

He scooped up his armor that still lay on the floor and slipped it back on, then extinguishing the lantern. Just when his hand had closed around the doorknob, he heard Yuri murmur a 'thank you.' The smile was still on Flynn's face as he exited the room, and he leaned against the door, letting out a long sigh. He wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight, just like every other day this week. But he didn't mind. He'd do whatever was needed to keep his friend happy and healthy, to keep him at his side just one day longer.

Because with Yuri, he felt like he could handle anything that was thrown his way.


End file.
